Reap The Whirlwind
by xstormqueenx
Summary: Clara comes face to face with an old enemy, marking the beginning of the end of all that she thinks she knows. {And The Rule Of Three, AU}.
1. Mr & Mrs Carsen

**Author's Note:** This is the sequel to _Once Upon A Dime._ The reading order so far for all of my Flynn/Clara fiction is: _And She Was Not An Adventure, Plato's Step-Daughter, A Christmas Clara, Sure As Sin, Once Upon A Dime,_ and _Reap The Whirlwind._ Each new Flynn/Clara story will include an updated reading order. All my Librarians fiction can be found under the 'My Stories' section of my profile. Videos for characters canon and original, can be found on my Youtube channel via the link on my profile.

* * *

 **Mr & Mrs Carsen**

 _The way you move is like a full-on rainstorm_ _  
_ _And I'm a house of cards_ _  
_ _You're the kind of reckless_ _  
_ _That should send me runnin'_ _  
_ _But I kinda know that I won't get far…_

"Where's the remote?" Clara asked, picking up a pillow garnished with lace within an inch of its life, before peering under it, slightly startled to find a peacock slumbering there.

"In my stomach," Flynn replied, popping a grape into his mouth, ignoring its pleas for mercy.

"You ate the remote?" Clara said slowly, turning to face him. They'd just returned from yet another book binge, Flynn blowing a fortune on the printed word, such arduous undertakings always making him ravenous.

"Guilty as charged," Flynn said, now peeling a banana.

"But why?" Clara said in disbelief, shooing the peacock away, interrupting its dreams of winning Miss. World.

"Because it told me to," Flynn said, looking enigmatic.

"Well, that's just brilliant," Clara snapped, clambering out of the four poster bed, "just bloody brilliant!"

"What's rattled your gilded cage?" Flynn said, stretching his long legs out.

" _You ate the remote, Flynn_ ," Clara said, rounding on him, "last week it was the aspidistra, and this week it's the remote. If you're going to literally eat me out of house and home, well, you're just going to have to meet me in a hotel instead."

"I'm not meeting you in a hotel," Flynn said, looking insulted, "that would just smack of seediness!"

"What, and it's not seedy keeping your enemies' heads in my fridge!?" Clara retorted.

"Well, that's something you're going to have to get used to," Flynn said airily, examining his fingernails. "Love me, love my disembodied heads."

Clara bit her tongue at this, caught in a trap. She hadn't said those three fatal words to Flynn yet, and he hadn't either, but it didn't stop him from bringing back from Barbados two matching dressing gowns with 'Mr. & Mrs. Carsen' embroidered on the back. When she'd pointed this out to him, he'd just shrugged his shoulders, saying he was thinking of the future, whilst saving money in the long run, and hadn't she said Clara Carsen had quite the ring? To which she replied she didn't have _the_ ring in question, Flynn saying ominously, _not yet_.

"I keep my best suits in your wardrobe," Flynn continued, "and you don't say anything about that" -

\- "Because your suits don't try to bite my fingers off every time I so much as reach for the milk," Clara said, rolling her eyes. "There is a difference, Flynn, one which I'm not sure you appreciate."

"I only appreciate you," Flynn said, quirking an eyebrow, "so why would I waste my time on anything else?"

Clara felt her anger fading, which only served to make her even angrier. Even though Flynn was sincere in what he said, she still didn't like how he could sweet-talk her round, making her give way to his madness. Shaking her head at him, she stalked into her luxury ensuite bathroom, only to find herself in the middle of a science fair, Clara slowing to a stop, her jaw dropping. " _Oh_ ," she said stupidly, drawing her dressing gown tighter around her.

"Nice of you to drop by, Mrs. Carsen," Ezekiel smirked, "on your honeymoon, yeah?"

"What the" -

\- "Evil never sleeps," Jacob intoned, "and neither do we."

"Which translates as your day off is dead in the water," Eve offered.

"Where am I?" Clara said weakly, feeling the weight of a thousand eyes on her.

"STEM!" Cassandra trilled, clasping her hands together with joy.


	2. The World Made Straight

**The World Made Straight**

 _In the colour TV, it was a new world_ _  
_ _The Dick van Dyke show, we're Cher and Bono_ _  
_ _The way I sing "I Got You Babe", makes you say, "Oh, no"_ _  
_ _Cause you are the class president without Jackie O_ _  
_ _And I'm singing "Happy birthday" like Marilyn Monroe…_

Clara found herself being ushered in front of a display composed of a large papier-mâché volcano, Cassandra hissing, _hide her, hide her!_ Upon impatiently querying why she should be hidden, Clara was told in blunt terms that Lucinda McCabe, the STEM science fair organizer was heading their way, and they didn't want Clara and her dressing gown blowing their cover. "What cover?" Clara asked in bewilderment, not noticing the double-take a nearby rather thickset teenage boy did in her direction, his eyes growing wide as cart-wheels.

"We're meant to be the judges," Jacob whispered in her ear. "Your bare feet and bed hair might just give the game away." And with that, he was gone, ready to distract Lucinda with some good old-fashioned Southern boy charm.

"So, uh, what's this meant to be?" Ezekiel asked the thickset boy, gesturing with a disinterested hand to his display.

"I need to phone Flynn," Clara said an undertone to Eve.

"No, you don't," Eve said, smiling at the thickset boy. "So what's that you got there, buddy?" she prompted, trying to look interested.

"I need to call my boyfriend," Clara said from between gritted teeth.

"You have a boyfriend?" the thickset boy said, his face falling.

"Is this a baking soda volcano?" Cassandra said, not looking very impressed.

"She really has a boyfriend?" the thickset boy repeated, looking strangely upset.

"I have a boyfriend who I need to call!" Clara said almost hysterically, feeling like throttling somebody with the cord of her dressing gown.

"Tell us about your volcano, then," Cassandra said to the thickset boy, elbowing Clara in the side.

He rolled his eyes, before flinging his arms wide. "Welcome to the world of magma," he said in a monotone, "my project today is..." He dropped his arms to his sides, shaking his head. "I can't do this," he said, turning away from them, "this is bullshit."

"What do you mean this is 'bullshit?' " Clara asked, wincing at his profanity, becoming drawn in despite herself.

"I'm not even supposed to be here," the boy snapped, watching as Ezekiel wandered off, suppressing a yawn. "I'm way out of my league," he complained, his gaze dwelling on Clara for a moment, lending an unwitting double-meaning to his words.

"No," Clara said, shaking her head, "you're not."

"I'm not?" the boy said incredulously.

"What's your name, sunshine?" Clara said, studying him, eyes narrowing.

"Leonard," the boy breathed.

Clara sashayed over to him, before grabbing him by the shoulders, standing on tip-toe so she was practically nose to nose with him. "You are an underdog, Leonard," she said enigmatically, "and all the greats were underdogs."

Leonard just nodded, looking spellbound.

"Show me what you got," Clara said, bestowing the ghost of a wink upon him.

Leonard grinned idiotically, revealing crooked eye-teeth. Looking like he'd been hit over the head with a hammer, he rushed back over to his display, Cassandra patting Clara on the head rather patronizingly.

"Well done," Eve said under her breath to Clara. "You're getting your head in the game."

"All she needs is some clothes, and we'll be hitting a home run," Cassandra said quietly, clasping her hands behind her.

"I _was_ a teacher, you know," Clara said, put out, "I think I understand the dynamics of inspiring students to realise their true potential."

"Why did you waitress, then?" Eve asked, frowning.

"Because they cut the funding to my department," Clara said, smiling at Leonard, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Are you ready, then?" she said to him, raising her voice slightly.

"Yeah," he beamed, hooking up the wires of the display to a large battery, only for his model to erupt like a real volcano, an explosion of fire rocketing upwards, sending flames soaring to the ceiling, lava streaming over the sides. The whole fair erupted into equal chaos, fire alarms blaring, setting off the sprinkler system, everybody screaming and rushing for cover.

"I think you inspired him a _leetle_ too much," Eve observed, turning to Clara.


	3. Pizza Topping Perchance

**Pizza Topping Perchance**

"Tell us what happened, Leonard," Clara said, leaning over the desk, "that's all we want to know."

"What else do would we want to know?" Jacob said, frowning. "His favourite colour? Pizza topping perchance?"

"Ignore the cowboy," Clara said, rolling her eyes. "So what's the deal with your volcano coming to life?" she then said, returning to the subject at hand.

Leonard stared at her, looking almost stunned, before shaking himself back into semblance. "The volcano just freaking exploded, man," he said, becoming upset, "I mean, you saw it for yourself, it was insane!"

Clara straightened up, knowing she was getting nowhere with her attempts at interrogation. Whilst the others smoothed things over with Lucinda McCabe, Clara and Jacob had been deployed to play good cop, bad cop, which had the double advantage of keeping Clara and her dressing gown out of Lucinda's way. Without thinking, Clara perched on the desk behind her, crossing her legs over, the fabric riding up, revealing an expanse of polished pale limbs.

"I need to sit down," Leonard breathed, his eyes boggling.

"You are sitting down," Jacob said coolly.

"You know what I think, Leonard," Clara said tiredly, "I think you rigged up that volcano as a front for something else."

"Something else?" Leonard squeaked.

Clara nodded, looking stern, forcing Leonard to focus.

"What do you mean?" Leonard said, deliberately deepening his voice.

"You tell me, sunshine," Clara retorted.

"What, you think I used it as a ruse to meet hot librarians?" Leonard said, trying and failing to smoulder.

"I think you employed unnatural means for something anyways," Clara said, sliding off the desk, "hot librarians or otherwise."

"Well, it would be unnatural for me not to appreciate natural beauty, wouldn't it?" Leonard said, switching tack, looking lofty.

"Try the insane card," Jacob suggested dryly, "that's what really floats Clara's boat."

Leonard just looked up at him as if he were mad.

"Now you're talking, son," Jacob said, "but _you're_ the one who has to be mad, not me. And what I mean by mad, is box of cats mad, not angry dad mad, Homer Simpson style."

"What did you do to that volcano, Leonard?" Clara pressed, glaring at Jacob.

"Are you mad at me?" Leonard said, losing his cool, sounding like he was on the edge of tears.

Clara did a double-take, before recovering herself. "Of course we're not mad at you," she soothed, "we're here to help, not holler at you. We're just worried you're mixed up in something you shouldn't be, that you're out of your depth, that's all."

"You'll help me then?" Leonard breathed again.

" _I'll_ help you," Clara said, taking his chubby hands in hers.

Leonard just stared at her, awestruck.

"I'm here to help fix whatever mess you're in," Clara continued, oblivious to the effect she was having on him, "so I need you to work with me on this, alright?"

Leonard nodded, his face taking on a dazed look again, like he'd been brained by a brick.

"So take a deep breath and just tell me the truth, Leonard," Clara said firmly, holding his gaze. "That's all you have to do."

"When you say my name, it sounds like a thousand angels singing," Leonard sighed, making Clara drop his hands like hot potatoes.

"I was talking about the volcano," she said awkwardly, backing away from him.

"Oh," Leonard said, looking as if he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Jacob just grinned, stooping down so he was eye-level with Leonard, almost looking as if he understood.

"She has eyes like the darkest chocolate," Leonard confided, his voice cracking.

"I know," Jacob said, clasping his shoulder, "I know."

 _Hey guy whatcha doing? I like you a lot_ _  
_ _I been watching you, you're watching me. I think you're hot_ _  
_ _Gold hoops, cherry pie, I'm the apple of his eye_ _  
_ _Jean Paul Gaultier, Versace and yayo…_


	4. Click For Kansas

**Click For Kansas**

"Leonard isn't the source of the magic," Clara argued, ignoring the funny looks being fired her way.

"Then who is?" Eve asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"A hundred contestants, twice as many spectators - it really narrows things down, doesn't it?" Ezekiel said sarcastically.

"Thank you for that display of extravagant optimism," Clara retorted, glaring at him. "It was exceedingly uplifting."

"At least he's not dressed in just a dressing gown," Cassandra pointed out primly.

"You kidding!?" Ezekiel explained, gesturing to Clara's dressing gown. "I want one of those babies too!"

"Look, we need to move methodically through all of the displays and find one that doesn't belong," Jacob said, rolling up his sleeves, "because time's ticking, folks. We need to nail that source, and fast."

"We need to follow my hunch," Ezekiel said smartly.

"What hunch?" Eve said, frowning.

" _The_ hunch," Ezekiel said cryptically.

"A hunch isn't a scientific method," Cassandra corrected him.

"Well, it's _my_ method," Ezekiel argued.

"Who cares about your methods when we have a Newton's Cradle," Clara said, becoming distracted despite herself, picking up a highly polished metronome, "and one of such staggering silver-plated beauty as well."

"I know," Cassandra enthused, coming over, "it's exquisite, isn't it?"

"What's it for?" Jacob said, looking stumped.

"It's an exercise in the conservation of momentum," Cassandra explained airily.

"Magic," Clara said simply.

"I rather doubt that," Jenkins said dourly, making them whirl round.

"I see you're out of the Annex," Clara said, tilting her head to the side.

"Your observational skills rival even those of Sherlock Holmes," Jenkins said deadpan.

"Why are you here, Jenkins?" Eve asked, remembering the debacle back at Bremen.

"Well, I was just going to stand around all day, waiting for one of you to call me," Jenkins said, taking a sip of his Blue Raspberry Slush Puppie, "and then I had a revelation - I have _freewill_. And besides, a science fair calls to something in my soul - as an underappreciated and innovative scientist myself, I admire these clever young people." He clenched his fist in appreciation, raising it up in the air like he was at a political rally. "Splendid," he said to a passing group of Goths, making them roll their kohl-rimmed eyes.

"I need to phone Flynn," Clara fired at Jenkins, returning to her original war-cry.

"Well, phone him," Jenkins said, looking at her like he was mad.

"I don't have my phone," Clara said from between gritted teeth, "and since they won't lend me theirs," she said, glaring at Eve and the others, "and I can't find a pay-phone for love or money, I'm asking you for assistance!"

"That reminds me," Jenkins said, pulling out a package from the inside pocket of his suit.

"What's that?" Clara frowned, taking it from him.

"Some appropriate attire," Jenkins said, eying her dressing gown with great disapproval.

"Wow, thanks," Clara said, taken aback.

"My little metronome," Cassandra cooed, completely oblivious to this interlude, "click for Kansas!" She pulled back one of the balls, sending it crashing into the other, but as they collided, two teenage boys crashed to the floor, their feet flying up beneath them.

"Whoa," Ezekiel said, open-mouthed.

"Hmm, magic is rewriting local reality," Jenkins observed enigmatically, "the laws of physics in this auditorium are beginning to _beeeend_. How... quaint."

 _Punctured bicycle_ _  
_ _on a hillside desolate_ _  
_ _will Nature make a man of me yet?_


	5. Toodles Tinkerbell

**Toodles Tinkerbell**

"You shouldn't have stolen that," Eve warned Ezekiel, who'd pilfered the metronome by stuffing it up the front of his jumper.

"But it's magic," Ezekiel argued, setting the metronome down on Flynn's desk, ignoring its sneeze.

"More like an early warning system," Jenkins corrected him, coming down the sweeping staircase, the Annex's glossy black payphone floating at his heels.

"Finally, a phone!" Clara exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

"Contain your enthusiasm, please," Jenkins said pompously. "It is _most_ unbecoming." He then cast a contemptuous glance at her dress, even though he'd picked it out for her. "And you cannot carry off a bluebird print," he said, shaking his silvered head.

"I don't care," Clara snapped, "just give me the goddamn phone!"

"Language, please!" Jenkins admonished her, signalling the phone forwards. "You used to have a little class, but now it's more trash" -

\- "Flynn!?" Clara bellowed down the receiver. "Are you there?"

"What happened to the gentle telegram?" Jenkins declared to the air, spreading his hands wide. "Or the humble carrier pigeon?"

"Never mind the nostalgia trip," Jacob said, snapping his fingers in front of Jenkins's face, "what about what's going down at this science fair?"

"You're looking for a coven," Jenkins said, staring very hard at Clara.

"Why do you keep looking at Clara every time someone so much hints at witchcraft?" Cassandra asked, brow furrowing. It was something she'd noticed Jenkins doing ever since the debacle of Bremen, a tic he seemed unable to control. As soon as someone so much as said the word 'wart', he would be eyeballing Clara like she'd just broken his best tea-set.

"She's not a real witch," Ezekiel reminded him.

"Oh my little ignoramuses," Jenkins smiled, as though he was going to gather them to his rather starched bosom, "how your naivety rouses my paternal instincts!"

"What, so Clara _is_ a real witch?" Jacob said, brow furrowing, the spell the Library had him under beginning to splinter slightly.

"And I'm Tinker Bell, ready to grant your every delight!" Jenkins trilled. "No, you Midwestern fool," he suddenly snapped, startling Jacob, "I'm talking about a real coven, not some cheap Halloween trick like Hartley."

"How do we find this coven?" Eve asked, stepping forwards.

"Three," Jenkins said, holding up his fingers, "look for the pattern of three."

"I don't know where your best talking tie is," Clara yelled down the line, making everybody jump.

"Tell him it's in his desk drawer," Jenkins called over.

"Alfred said it's in your desk drawer," Clara boomed.

"I'm not Alfred," Jenkins protested, flinging his hands up, "and the Annex isn't the Bat-Cave, and Portland isn't Gotham!"

"You could have had me fooled," Jacob said darkly.

* * *

"Fructose and water poured over frozen water," Jenkins said, holding his Yumberry Slush Puppie aloft. "Miraculous!"

"Rule of three, rule of three," Cassandra murmured, glancing round the room. They had left the Annex in favour of returning to the science fair, Cassandra trying to fit the number three onto anything that caught her eye, trying and failing to find the pattern Jenkins had spoken of.

"Goths," Ezekiel suddenly said, electrified.

"Goths?" Jacob said, looking at him as if he was mad.

"Goths!" Cassandra exclaimed, catching on. "There's a trio of Goths traipsing about! It must be them!"

"Wouldn't that be rather... obvious?" Eve said, looking unconvinced.

"Hidden in plain sight, Colonel Baird," Jenkins said pompously.

"Where's Hartley?" Jacob demanded, suddenly noticing she was gone.

"She's probably with the Gothics," Jenkins said, looking bored.

"Why didn't you tell us!?" Eve snapped, fighting the urge to ruffle up his shirt.

"It's not my fault you're imbeciles," Jenkins said, looking insulted.

* * *

"Sorry to interrupt the violin recital," Clara said, skidding to a halt, "but what are you doing?"

The group of Goths stared at her, faces pained at her ignorance. The teenage boy kneeling on the floor, working a Victorian waist-coat, his face chalk white, his black hair swept back from an intellectual brow, raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "I'm expressing my inner turmoil," he said quietly, making Clara do a double-take. As the two girls resumed their violin playing, the third girl shielded her eyes with her hand, looking like she was wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

"Excuse me, are you competing in this science fair thing?" Clara asked her, confused.

"Yeah, I am," the girl said, rolling her eyes.

"Are they?" Clara pressed, gesturing to the others.

"No," the girl said, rolling her eyes again

"So what's this all about then?" Clara said, completely bewildered.

The girl shrugged her shoulders, knowing but obviously not wanting to answer.

"Are you... are you the coven?" Clara then asked, wincing slightly as all four teenagers rolled their eyes at her.

"We don't do clichés, darling," the blonde violinist drawled.

"We're above them," the other violinist added, before launching into a vigorous version of 'Irene's Theme'.

Clara swayed on the spot, becoming lost in the heartrending melody for a moment.

"Let's put the past behind us, Amy," the teenage boy suddenly intoned, making the third girl cringe, "and move into the future with me, holding only each other's hands and hearts" - the violinists started wailing in what Clara assumed to be singing - "for all eternity."

"You know I can't date right now," Amy hissed, folding her arms across her chest, "school is too important - winning this STEM fair comes first" -

\- "It's just Prom," the teenage boy said, getting to his feet.

"Okay, you're just asking her to Prom, not practising Dark Magic," Clara said hastily, backing away from them, "toodles!" And with that, she was gone, escaping their epic eye-rolls.

 _What she asked of me at the end of the day_ _  
_ _Caligula would have blushed_ _  
_ _"You've been in the house too long," she said_ _  
_ _And I naturally fled…_


	6. Sonnets And Spiderwebs

**Sonnets And Spiderwebs**

"Nobody's trying to win," Cassandra suddenly burst out, looking like she'd just been struck by lightning, "they're trying to get everyone else to lose."

"What?" Clara said, appearing out of nowhere.

Cassandra impatiently repeated her epiphany.

"The Goths aren't the coven," Clara said, the others rolling their eyes.

"We saw," Eve explained, "plus we also saw a boy barf up a swarm of flies. That's kind of what Cassandra is trying to say."

"The Rule of Three amplifies the spell," Jenkins said from behind them, brandishing his butterfly net, "for good or bad. Any direct harm you do unto others with malicious intent will be visited back upon you threefold."

"There are multiple victims though," Jacob said, brow creasing.

"Well, there will be a wall of backlash wending its way back to the perpetrator," Jenkins said dourly, popping a peppermint into his mouth.

"But who's the source?" Clara asked, bewildered.

"The name Amy keeps cropping up," Ezekiel said, looking bored. "Everywhere we go, it's Amy, Amy, Amy."

"The guy who barfed up the flies used to date her," Cassandra enlightened Clara, who was now completely stumped.

"And Leonard's been crushing on her since forever," Jacob said, looking just as bored, "that's until he set eyes on Clara, of course," he amended.

"How do you know all this?" Clara exclaimed, throwing her hands up in despair.

"Because we've done the legwork," Eve said tiredly, "doing the rounds of displays and whatnot. Amy... stood out from the rest. She's the frontrunner to win this competition."

"Thanks to Super Mom," Ezekiel said, pulling out his phone.

"Pushy doesn't even cover it," Jacob said, shaking his head.

"I - I think I just met Amy," Clara said, wringing her hands, "she was with the Goths."

"And?" Jacob pressed, suddenly on the alert.

"She didn't seem too happy," Clara said nervously.

"What do you mean?" Eve asked, frowning.

"The little Goth guy asked her to Prom," Clara said, biting her lip, "and she got all Joan of Arc on him, saying this science fair thing came first."

"Okay, find Romeo and Juliet," Eve ordered, springing to life. "Maybe we can stop this before more than a few hearts get broken."

* * *

"Come to gloat, mortals?" a sonorous voice intoned from the darkness.

"No, just to ask you a few questions," Jacob said carefully, taking a step forwards.

As Clara's eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she saw the teenage Goth boy from before, sitting cross-legged on a science bench, his face brooding. "Hey," she said quietly, making his head snap up.

"How did you know I was in here?" he fired at her, recognizing her as the witness to his earlier humiliation.

"Second sight," Clara parried, leaning against the science bench. "This is Amy's world," she then said, gesturing round the science lab, "where it all started, savvy?"

The teenage boy exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping.

"Did your eyes meet above a Bunsen burner?" Jacob joked, Clara hastily elbowing him in the side.

"No, I was reaching for a test-tube rack, and so was she," the teenage boy said deadpan, "our hands colliding, skin tingling, the chemistry instant, putting everyone else's experiments in the shade."

"I deserved that," Jacob admitted, looking as if he wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

"Yeah, you did," the teenage boy said, rolling his eyes.

"What's with you and Amy anyways?" Clara said, trying to sound interested.

The teenage boy hesitated, before pushing back a lock of black hair. "She's an Alpha kid," he said tiredly, "and I'm going through the most clichéd of teenage phases. I don't belong with her, you seen that back there, she's out of my league."

"Maybe she's out of yours," Clara said coldly.

But he just scoffed, raising an eyebrow at her ridiculous statement. "She's an _Alpha_ kid," he repeated, as though that was supposed to mean something. "And me? I like sonnets and spiderwebs. Science and poetry just don't mix."

" _She walks in beauty like the night_ ," Jacob suddenly quoted, something in his voice making Clara glance sharply at him, " _with cloudless climes and starry skies, and all that's best of dark and bright..._ " His gaze met and held Clara's, suddenly making it hard for her to breathe. For a long moment, it was just her and Jacob, the rest of the world fading from them. And then he looked away, breaking the spell, Clara feeling like she'd fallen a thousand feet.

"That's Lord Byron," the teenage boy said, brow furrowing.

"He was a bad-ass," Jacob grinned lazily, "and so are you. All this stuff about geeks and Goths, jocks and Alphas, they're just costumes we wear. They're fetters of your own choosing. Break your bonds, kid. Be yourself, painted fingernails and all."

 _I wear black on the outside_ _  
_ _'Cause black is how I feel on the inside_ _  
_ _I wear black on the outside_ _  
_ _'Cause black is how I feel on the inside…_

* * *

"What's up troops?" Jacob asked as he and Clara re-joined the others.

"We did a little snooping around Amy's science project," Ezekiel said, holding up a fancy looking phone.

"You stole a mobile?" Clara said, frowning.

"You should have done that earlier," Jenkins instructed her, "and then we would have been spared your bleating about phoning Flynn."

"Somebody's turned a magic spell into an app," Cassandra said hastily, biting her lip.

"Really?" Clara said, taken aback, snatching the phone from Ezekiel.

"Really really," Cassandra said, eyes growing wide with worry.

"A.L.B," Eve clarified, folding her arms across her chest.

"It's disguised as a brain trainer thing," Cassandra continued, "like an advanced learning buddy. It distracts you with the test, but each level that you advance, tells you to focus on a goal, before kicking you up to the next level."

"If you look at the code," Ezekiel interjected, watching as Clara flipped through the app, "past all the glowy bits, it's way more complex than anything I've ever hacked into, and I've hacked the NSA - allegedly."

"The magic is powerful, even brutal," Jenkins said, frowning, "displaying an expertise in witchcraft I haven't seen for a very long time." For a moment, his gaze fell upon Clara, before settling on a passing parent, pretending to become distracted by their bow-tie.

"This is going to bite somebody in the ass big-time," Jacob said, shaking his head.

"But it's not Amy who's going to get the blowback," Ezekiel said, startling them all, "if you look at the usage data, Amy has never accessed this app. She's not using the spell."

"Then who is?" Eve asked.


	7. The Apple Doesn't Fall Far

**The Apple Doesn't Fall Far**

 _The dream is gone..._  
 _Oh you did a good thing_  
 _She could have been a poet_  
 _Or, she could have been a fool…_

"Why do you keep doing this!?" Clara yelled up at the Annex ceiling, shaking her fist à la Flynn. Whilst the others worked out the witchcraft, she'd taken a detour to the restroom to catch her breath, only to end up in the Annex, a regrettable reversal of events. But the Annex seemed fond of depositing Clara in different dimensions via bathrooms, so she had to play along with whatever portal took the Annex's fancy.

"Guinevere?"

Clara's head snapped up, shock stiffening her spine, the voice jarringly familiar yet unknown to her.

"It is _you_ ," Lucinda McCabe said, a smile spreading across her face. "Circe said you were back, if albeit a little confused, but still, you're here!" She made to embrace Clara, only for Clara to hastily back away from her, her eyes wide with terror. "Oh, don't be like that, honey," Lucinda pouted, pretending to be hurt.

"You're - you're the STEM organizer," Clara stuttered stupidly, barely recognizing Lucinda from earlier on. She'd only caught glimpses of a tall, slim woman in a green dress, but up close, she saw Lucinda was beautiful, with delicate features and pearly teeth, her dark red hair simply and elegantly styled, perfectly complimenting her outfit.

"Guilty as charged," Lucinda said with a laugh.

"You - you shouldn't be in here," Clara struggled to say, not understanding yet comprehending all at once, logic colliding with chaos.

"Understatement of the century, Gwen," Lucinda laughed again, "and there's been many of the latter, believe me. This STEM thing is just one of a long line of distractions I employ to occupy my neverending time." She glanced up, making Clara whirl around, only to see Jenkins, all the blood draining from his face. "How nice of you to join the party, Galeas," Lucinda smiled, secrets dancing in her dark eyes.

"Get out," Jenkins said, stepping forwards.

"Make me," Lucinda said, spreading her hands, the gesture cutting a table piled high with books and papers in two, scattering their contents to the wind. She walked through its jagged middle, trailing a finger through the destruction, biting her lip almost provocatively as she did so.

"Neat parlour trick," Jenkins said coldly, something flickering behind his eyes, an emotion Clara didn't understand.

"I see your sins have come home to roost," Lucinda said, glancing at Clara.

"Leave her out of this," Jenkins snapped, stepping in front of Clara.

"She doesn't know, does she?" Lucinda said, tilting her head to the side.

"Morgan, don't," Jenkins said, almost begging.

"Morgan?" Clara said, her voice cracking. "As in Morgan Le Fay?"

"You do remember me, then," Morgan purred, "and you should. After all, I taught you everything you know."

"You corrupted her!" Jenkins burst out, now shaking from head to foot.

"And you couldn't save her," Morgan almost snarled. "You still can't." She raised her hands, Jenkins throwing himself forwards, only to be flung aside, Clara collapsing to her knees, the world suddenly rushing at her, the pressure of the past almost crushing her consciousness. "You've been living a lie, Clara," Morgan whispered, kneeling down beside her, "a half-life" -

\- "What have you done to me!?" Clara screamed, clutching her head between her hands. The world was too much, everything too loud and bright, overwhelming her. But what was worse was the memories, dying on a distant battlefield; the terrible look on Flynn's face as he beheld her in her true form; Dulaque tracing the outline of her lips with his finger; standing before her mother's portrait, her heart breaking; Lancelot standing over her, her blood on his hands, dripping down the edge of his sword -

"I've set you free, Guinevere," Morgan said quietly, smoothing back Clara's hair, the gesture almost maternal.

"You broke the enchantment," Jenkins said brokenly, raising his head, not even trying to stem the blood gushing from his nose.

"Not just yours, but the Library's as well," Morgan said, getting to her feet. "Personally, I hate Benediction spells," she flung up at the ceiling, shaking her head in disgust. "Too old fashioned for my taste," she said in a loud aside to Flynn's desk, making it curse her in ancient Latin.

"Lancelot," Clara whimpered, the tears rolling down her face.

"Forget about him, honey," Morgan said, rolling her eyes, "he's the one that got you into this mess in the first place. But then again, neither one of you was ever any good at sharing."

Clara collapsed against the bookcase, her mind reeling, remembering Camelot, how she'd craved its kingship for her own, to sit at the Round Table as Arthur did. But she did more than remember; for the first time in a long time, she beheld the truth in its true form. She saw old allies as the enemies they'd been all along; Morgan and Lancelot, those she'd trusted and loved, her right hand and heart's desire.

Morgan had seen her ambition, encouraging it, using Guinevere as her cat's paw to bring down Arthur, instructing Guinevere in the Dark Acts, unleashing the magic hidden in Guinevere's heart. Morgan wanted to be the power behind the throne, planning Guinevere's downfall even as she orchestrated Guinevere's ascendancy. And Lancelot... Guinevere had loved him, so sure of his love for her, but he'd wanted more than what she could give; desiring her to make him a present of power, crowning him King of Camelot. But to rule was to rule alone, and so he'd killed her for the Crown, sacrificing his love for his lust for control instead.

"Your father slew me," Clara whispered, making Jenkins bow his head.

"And his son saved you," Morgan said, looming over her, "only to realise too late that it was too late. You were not what he'd believed you to be, the mother he should have had, an innocent caught in the crossfire. He finally faced the darkness in your soul, imprisoning it, not realising it would be reborn. Your father died trying to save you, murdered by your mother, dying at her hands."

Clara just shook her head, clamping her hands over her ears, becoming a little girl again, denying she was different.

"Your father didn't know what your mother really was until the end," Morgan said gently, "what she was capable of, what she'd already done. She sacrificed her only daughter, her own baby, an innocent child. You were the vessel for Guinevere's resurrection, Clara, and on your seventeenth birthday, the final rites were to be performed, only your father foiled that little attempt."

"But the Serpent Brotherhood" -

\- "To their rather doubtful credit, the Serpent Brotherhood had nothing to do with it, being completely unaware of your existence. But your mother had her own scores to settle with them, debts that needed to be dealt with, so she sold Chamberlain House and all its contents to them, before going on the run, trying to recoup her losses, thinking she could claw something back, but then she died, casting you adrift" -

\- "Melisande was the mistress of deception," Jenkins said bitterly, getting to his feet, "I doubt I would have ever have found you Clara, if the Library hadn't brought you to me."

"Clara Hartley doesn't even exist," Morgan said, shaking her head, "just another one of Melisande's little jokes."

"She was protecting me," Clara wept.

"She was protecting her investment," Morgan snapped.

"Like you did," Clara said, shaking from head to foot, "exploiting me for your own ends."

"Nobody forced you to kill Arthur, honey," Morgan said, shaking an admonitory finger at her, "you were prepared to do that all on your lonesome."

"I played right into your hands," Clara cried, her fists clenching by her sides.

"I raised an army for you!" Morgan spat. "I gave Camelot to you on a silver platter. It wasn't my fault Loverboy got greedy and stuck a sword in your side!"

"You witch!" Clara screamed, spit flecking the air.

"I prefer sorceress actually," Morgan said coldly, recovering her self-control, "witch has too much gender baggage. And pot calling kettle black, honey," she said, tutting loudly.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Jenkins said, dark eyes distant.

"You have a cheek to talk, Galeas," Morgan said, trailing her finger across his cheek.


	8. Put Your Empty Hands In Mine

**Put Your Empty Hands In Mine**

"Don't be so predictable, Gwen," Morgan said tiredly as Clara got to her feet, stumbling for the door, only to freeze. "There's nowhere to run."

Clara just stared at her, her heart fracturing in her chest.

"So a word to the wise," Morgan said slowly, advancing on Clara, "I would stay here for the next few minutes if I were you, it's all about to begin. You don't want to get caught up in the chaos, honey."

"The feedback loop," Jenkins breathed, looking like he was going to collapse.

"There's been thousands of downloads of my little app," Morgan said lightly, "creating a super coven of sorts, and with 27 users currently online, - the rule of three don't-cha-know - all hell is about to break loose. I'm not one for missing the party, but this time, I might just break with tradition."

Clara just stood there, fists clenched by her sides.

"What happens to those children when the backlash begins?" Jenkins asked, his voice cracking.

"What, don't like the idea of using magic to punish all those naughty little boys and girls?" Morgan pouted.

"God, you're the most evil creature I have ever beheld" -

\- "Hold your tongue," Morgan spat, raising her hand, Jenkins doubling over, his hands flying to his throat, literally choking on his tongue.

Impulsively, Clara raised her own hands, her eyes flickering violet, but Morgan deflected the spell with a wave of her own hand, merely looking bored.

"You're rusty, Gwen," she said, suppressing a yawn. "Not quite the star student you used to be," she said regretfully, "and as for you Galeas," turning to the gagging Jenkins, "you've lost the little you had, or is it because you just don't want to raise a hand to the woman you love?"

Again, Clara aimed another attack at Morgan, only for Morgan to deflect it again, rolling her eyes.

"Stop humiliating yourself, honey," Morgan said, making for the door, "not even Tennyson could take me down, never mind you." And with that she left, leaving, as ever, a trail of destruction in her wake.

* * *

"We have to kill her," Jenkins rasped, reaching for Clara, but she backed away from him, blinded by tears. "Clara, please," he begged, forcing her to come forwards, "I can't do this alone."

"What - what about the children though?" Clara said, barely able to speak. "We have to save them!"

"We don't have time to do both," Jenkins said, straightening up, eyes filled with agony, "they'll have to be sacrificed for the greater good" -

Clara slapped him, the sound cracking like a whip around the Annex.

"You _fool_ ," Jenkins breathed, hatred contorting his face.

"Use your magic," Clara hissed, staring him down through her tears, "anything in your arsenal. Just bloody do something!"

"I can't," Jenkins said, bowing his head. "I... I cannot kill her."

"What, so you'll use me as your cat's paw instead?" Clara snapped. "Following her example, are we?"

"Not you," Jenkins said tiredly, "the others."

Clara stared at him. "Why does my magic not work?" she demanded from between gritted teeth. "I'm supposed to be Morgan's equal, but my spells are damp squibs compared to hers!"

"Because you're still Clara," Jenkins said, his voice cracking. "You and Guinevere are no longer in alignment. All you have at your fingertips is memories, Clara, the memory of your magic, and who you used to be. The truth just isn't enough."

"But what about before?" Clara said in disbelief. "In Rome, Bremen" -

\- "The spells you were under conjured up facets of Guinevere, the queen, the witch, lending life to your memories, resurrecting you for one brief heartbeat" -

\- "'You?' " Clara quoted. " 'Her?' Guinevere? Clara? Who am I, Jenkins? If I'm not Guinevere, or Clara, who the hell am I?"

Jenkins just looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

"You knew all along," Clara said, chin trembling, "all this time you were lying to me."

"I didn't know at first," Jenkins whispered, "when Flynn first brought you here, I - " he buried his face in his hands, - "it was only later, I uncovered fragments of the truth, Melisande, what she'd done to you - but the connections to Chamberlain House, the Serpent Brotherhood - I didn't know of that. I didn't even know somebody had tried to resurrect Guinevere until you turned up on my doorstep. Like a fool, I thought it was over, lost to the mists of time. But then you were there, and I _knew_ then, that it was only a matter of time before Guinevere came back."

"My mother..." Clara breathed, half turning away from him.

"She covered her tracks too well," Jenkins said tiredly, raising his head. "Like I said, even if I had known, I wouldn't have been able to find you. It was the Library who led me to you - it's been trying to save you all this time - it sent you a Letter when you were seventeen, to bring you here, under its protection. But Melisande thwarted even that" -

\- "It doesn't matter," Clara said, rounding on him, "none of it does. My life is a lie, I get it now. I - I accept that you lied to me, that you all did - Flynn, Charlene, Judson" -

\- "I don't think Charlene and Judson knew," Jenkins said uneasily, unnerved by the expression in her eyes, "and as for Flynn, he was just trying to protect you" -

\- "I don't care," Clara said, shrugging her shoulders, "and as for Eve and the others, they were just your dupes. But me? I'm not going to be your secret stooge anymore." And with that, she was gone, like so many before her.

* * *

 _Hands, put your empty hands in mine_  
 _And scars, show me all the scars you hide_  
 _And hey, if your wings are broken_  
 _Please take mine so yours can open too_  
 _Cause I'm gonna stand by you…_

"Clara?" Jacob said, stepping in front of her, forcing her to stop her headless flight through the crowd. "Jeesh, you okay?" he said quietly, smoothing back a wave of brown hair. "You're lookin' a lil frazzled."

Clara just stared at her, waiting for him to see what she really was, the monster within. But there was nothing but concern, Jacob only seeing Clara, what he thought he knew. She exhaled sharply, the relief painful, twisting like a knife in her heart. What was left of the Benediction spell still lingered, its rags barely clothing Clara, just enough to conceal her true identity from sight. But Clara knew, and the knowledge made her finally break down, burying her face in Jacob's shoulder, her fingers almost clawing him in her desperate desire to hold onto all she had left.

"Hey, it's okay," Jacob soothed, wrapping his arms around her, fighting to hide his fear at the state she was in.

"Don't leave me," Clara whispered, digging her nails into him, "please don't leave me."

"I won't, I promise," Jacob said, dropping a fierce kiss on her brow.

"Clara?" Cassandra said in disbelief, stopping dead in her tracks, Ezekiel and Eve crashing into her. Before any of them could react, Clara had flung herself into Cassandra's arms, sobbing like a child, clinging to Cassandra, Ezekiel and Eve's attempts to detach her from Cassandra becoming a bizarre group hug instead, Ezekiel awkwardly patting Clara's head, Eve Clara's shoulder, Cassandra holding her hand, Jacob hanging back, becoming torn apart by terror. Out of them all, he was the one closest to knowing the truth, but it was hidden in plain sight, leaving him lost, frightened.

"Morgan Le Fay built the app," Clara wept, "the feedback loop" -

\- "It was Ukrainian programmers who built the app actually," Morgan corrected her, appearing out of nowhere, "I just constructed the wish-spell."

"Lucinda McCabe is Morgan Le Fay!?" Eve said, doing a comical double-take.

"You're hurting kids!?" Cassandra snapped, stepping forwards, letting go of Clara's hand. "That's just _awful!_ "

"I never hurt anyone, darling," Morgan said, glancing at Clara. "But if you put magic in the hands of mortals, they'll inevitably destroy each other. All I do is sit back and wait for the rule of three to kick out its backlash."

"So you're doing it for a cheap thrill, then?" Ezekiel said, eying her up despite himself.

" _Please_ ," Morgan pouted, "all that magic floating around, all that destruction? I just skim off the top, recharge my powers, and stay forever young." With a flirtatious glance over her shoulder at Ezekiel, she then sashayed off, Ezekiel studying the sway of her hips with an expert eye. And then she was gone, fading into oblivion.

" _Whoa_ ," Ezekiel breathed.

"Zeke!" Cassandra hissed out of the corner of her mouth, elbowing him in the side.

"What!?" Ezekiel protested, put out.

"You're drooling," Eve said dryly.


	9. Hashtag Team Library

**# Team Library**

 _When the ghosts get in your head_ _  
_ _All your eyes can see is red_ _  
_ _Your sail is down, your ship is wrecked_ _  
_ _Thunders left you there for dead_

 _You're fading, fading…_

 _Hey now don't you runaway, don't you runaway_ _  
_ _Hey now don't you be afraid, don't you be afraid_ _  
_ _You're safe_ _  
_ _You're safe…_

"She could be anywhere in history!" Clara hissed, rounding on Eve.

"What the hell did that woman do to you, Hartley?" Jacob said worriedly, grabbing her shoulders, stooping down so he was eye-level with Clara. "Tell us, so we can help you," he said gently, holding Clara's wild gaze.

"Please don't leave me," Clara whispered.

"None of us are going anywhere," Ezekiel said, exchanging glances with Eve and Cassandra, "we're hashtag Team Library, remember? No matter what happens, we're here, stuck to you like wet on water."

Clara nodded, biting her lip, her eyes brimming with tears again.

"What's this about the feedback loop?" Jacob then said quietly.

Taking a deep breath, Clara recounted everything Morgan had boasted about the app, what it was capable of. As she glanced round at their pale faces, she suddenly felt like she was standing on solid ground again, that the world made its usual strange sense once more. They had been deceived as she had, lied to like she'd been. But most of all, she was still her, Clara Hartley. They made her what she was, nobody else.

"Morgan's still here," Cassandra said to Clara, "she's not done yet." _With you_ , she silently added, thinking what they were all thinking.

"Never mind her," Jacob said, rolling up his sleeves, "we have to save these kids."

"What do you propose we do, then?" Ezekiel asked, brow furrowing.

"Set off the fire alarms," Jacob said quickly, "evacuate everyone" -

\- "These twenty seven kids are linked by the rule of three," Clara said, shaking her head, "the magic will find them anywhere."

"So we have to protect them from here," Eve said, catching on.

"A Faraday cage," Clara said, looking dazed, clutching Jacob's sleeve, "we need to build a Faraday cage."

"A container that protects everything inside from an electrical charge," Cassandra hastily explained, catching sight of everyone else's confused faces.

"We don't have time to construct somethin' like that," Jacob snapped, losing his cool.

"We don't have to," Clara breathed, her gaze being drawn like magic to Amy's display. She rushed over to it, tipping the table over, knocking everything to the floor, Amy's mother descending on her, practically breathing fire.

"What the hell are you doing!?" she screeched, flapping her hands at Clara.

"You were assigned this booth and table, weren't you?" Clara fired at a startled Amy as she dropped to the floor, peering under the table.

"Yeah, we were all assigned our booths by the McCabe Foundation," Amy said, looking at Clara like she was mad.

"Five legs on a round table," Clara said brokenly, getting to her feet.

"And a pentagram flung in for good measure," Cassandra said, observing the symbols painted on the table's underside.

"We need to take the legs off this table," Clara said quickly, "spread them out, and get everyone inside the radius" -

\- "of the pentagram," Cassandra finished for her, grabbing Clara's arm, "but it won't be enough."

"What do you mean?" Eve said urgently.

"We need to supercharge the pentagram," Cassandra explained, "the app - it's a focusing spell. So if we plant stakes and then use it to focus all of our energy on creating a Faraday cage, protecting the kids."

"Do you think you can map out the pentagram?" Clara asked Jacob, her hands shaking.

"I was a surveyor for ten years, Clara," he said, ruffling up her hair, "I can do this blindfolded."


	10. Between The Tik And The Tok

**Between The Tik And The Tok**

 _We make patterns out of stars_ _  
_ _And we whisper little prayers_ _  
_ _To be somewhere that we're not_ _  
_ _And if we're good it will take us there…_

As clouds of electrical energy began to gather overhead, Clara and the others took their positions, the students gathering in the centre of the room, in the heart of the pentagram. One by one, they raised their table legs, Clara the last, her arm shaking slightly. Then the storm struck, but instead of striking the students, it hit the table legs instead, illuminating each point of the pentagram.

Struggling to keep her balance, Clara closed her eyes, wincing as the force whipped through her hair like wind, nearly knocking her off her feet. After several long moments, the storm seemed to abate, Clara slowly opening her eyes again, too scared to see. But it was only to find herself utterly alone, the world existing in shades of grey, a state of existence that echoed the silence enveloping her.

"Nice place isn't it?" Morgan said, making Clara whirl around. "It helps me focus, y'know?"

"Where is everybody?" Clara demanded, her voice strangely distant, sounding as if it was coming from far away.

"Don't worry, you did it," Morgan said, clapping her hands together. "You saved them all. So have a gold star on me."

"Where are they?" Clara repeated from between gritted teeth.

"Out there somewhere," Morgan said, glancing around her, "not quite sure where exactly though."

"And where are we?"

"Between the seconds," Morgan smiled. "Between the _tik_ and the _tok_."

"Look, let's just finish this, shall we?" Clara said, cutting to the chase.

"Finish what, honey?" Morgan said, circling her.

"This," Clara said, pulling out Amy's phone.

"Oh, I thought you meant our little feudal feud," Morgan said, pretending to be taken aback.

" _Why_ did you wake me up?" Clara said quietly, feeling Guinevere's ghost in her veins, stirring from her slumber.

"I thought it would be fun," Morgan said lightly, shrugging her shoulder.

"I'm the only one that can kill you," Clara said, her eyes flickering violet, "so why sign your own suicide note?"

"That was _then_ , honey," Morgan said, looking bored, " _now_ though is a whole other story. On your best day, you might be able to muss up my hair. Anything else is just wishful thinking on your part."

Clara just tilted her head to the side, a snakelike smile playing across her lips. The next thing Morgan knew was that she was dangling in mid-air, as though hanging from an invisible noose, her feet desperately trying to find solid ground, her hands flying to her throat, the life being choked out of her. "And not a hair out of place, _honey_ ," Clara purred, parodying Morgan.

Morgan tried to unleash on her own counter enchantment, but Clara just deflected it with a lazy wave of her hand.

"Stop humiliating yourself, dear one," Clara drawled, circling Morgan this time. "Just... let go."

"Gwen, please," Morgan gasped, feeling the magic turn sour in her veins, unable to find an outlet.

"Galeas wants me to kill you," Clara said, pretended to frown, "but that would be too easy." She raised her hand, Morgan collapsing onto the ground, her face bloodless, red hair tumbled, her green dress riding up her legs. "Your day is over," Clara said coldly, advancing on her, "so run, Morgan, hide. Seek shelter with the Fey or carve out a kingdom in the Mirror-Lands, finding refuge in reflections. I am banishing you to the Beyond. This world is mine, not yours."

"Noli timere malum," Morgan whispered, staggering to her feet, "sed time heroa."

"Sorry, I don't speak gibberish," Clara smirked.

"Get - what did he call himself? - _Jenkins_ , to translate it for you," Morgan spat, "he'll understand even if you don't." And with that, she turned and escaped into eternity.


	11. Fear The Hero

**Fear The Hero**

 _My heart is a cage  
And my bones feel so strange…_

Clara closed the door behind her, the Annex seeming to shrink away from her, its rejection strangely painful. But she'd defeated Morgan, and saved the children, what more did it want? Even Amy had found happiness with her little Goth, Leonard the failure winning first prize. Yet a little voice whispered that victory wasn't hers, that it had been won by many, not one. She shoved this thought aside, savouring her tainted triumph, relishing the bitter taste of it on her tongue.

"That was a mistake," Jenkins said, stepping out of the shadows.

Clara just raised her hand, the bookcase behind him going up in flames.

Rolling his eyes, Jenkins snapped his fingers, instantly extinguishing the flames, the bookcase as innocuous as ever.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," Clara said, biting her lip.

"Don't," Jenkins said, his voice cracking.

"You were the one warming Morgan's bed, not me," Clara said, raising an eyebrow, "contrary to what you may have heard otherwise."

"You had the chance to end the cause of a thousand years destruction," Jenkins snapped, "yet you let her slip through your fingers!"

"What, like you did?" Clara said, rounding on him.

"That was a long time ago" -

\- "You let her rough you up," Clara hissed, "or is that just how you like it?"

"Clara" -

\- "Don't address me by that title!" Clara screeched, her eyes turning a violent violet.

Jenkins just shook his head, half turning away from her.

"I saved a hundred human brats," Clara said coldly, "when I didn't have to. What more do you want from me? A goddamn piano recital!?"

"You just doomed her next thousand victims," Jenkins said just as coldly.

This time, Clara just shook her head, not believing what she was hearing.

"You had her," Jenkins said, advancing on Clara, "for the first time in centuries, you _had_ her."

"What did I say about listening to rumours?" Clara said, shaking a finger at him.

"You know what, you're right, I don't know who you are," Jenkins said, holding his hands up in almost surrender, "and I don't think I ever did."

"Whatever, old man," Clara said, rolling her eyes. "Your ex gave me a little message to deliver to you."

"What do you mean?" Jenkins said, every inch of him suddenly on high alert.

"Don't worry, I'll speak slowly and clearly," Clara pretended to promise. "Have you got your hearing aid in? _Noli timere malum, sed time heroa_."

"Do not fear the villain," Jenkins said, his face draining of colour, "fear the hero."

"Nice love-note," Clara said, "and rather apt for yours truly."

"The best of dark and bright," Jenkins said slowly.

Clara flinched at this, the memory of Jacob's voice striking a chord within what had been Clara.

"You know the end is coming, don't you?" Jenkins said suddenly.

"It's always been that way" -

\- "I mean the end of everything, this world and all that lies between," Jenkins said, his stare searing through her.

"What, you want me to save the world now?"

"If you don't learn how to fight the war, instead of just winning the battles, none of us will survive, not even you," Jenkins said quietly. "It's your choice."

" _We_ choose," Clara said, echoing his earlier words, as if from another life.

"Exactly."

"Well, we don't want history repeating itself, do we?" Clara said bitterly, remembering the fall of Camelot.

Silence.

"So where do we go from here?" Jenkins then said, spreading his hands. "You're neither Clara nor Guinevere, caught between the living and the dead, a mere shadow, a shade" -

\- "I'm phoning Loverboy," Clara said, pulling out Amy's mobile, "he and I have a lot to say to each other before the world goes up in flames."

"You'll break his heart."

"Ah, Flynn's famous frozen heart," Clara mused, "defrosted by his dear darling Hartley. It's such a shame to undo all that good work, but it has to be done, I'm afraid."

"He was just trying to protect you" -

\- "So you keep saying, Grand-dad," Clara said impatiently, dialling Flynn's number. "But does it look like I care? I'm moving onto better and higher things, honey."

"Stone?"

"Jake?" Clara said, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm talking about that tasty piece of trailer trash. He'd like to get his rough hands on this lil hot piece of ass, so I might just give it to him." She slapped her backside for extra emphasis, making Jenkins flinch.

"Why are you destroying everything we've built here?" he said, his hands shaking.

"I'm just starting, sweetpea," Clara smiled, "working my way from the inside out, dividing and conquering with my derriere. It'll be amusing to see our great heroes scrapping over some jumped up English doxy. As for the others, well, I'll put my thinking cap on for them. But let me tell you, I'm especially looking forward to breaking your little brainbox, especially after that little incident with Excalibur" -

Jenkins sprung at her, grabbing her face between his hands, almost crushing the life out of her. Clara struggled, her eyes becoming violet again, magic sparking from her fingers, but Jenkins was stronger, fuelled by loss and rage. She suddenly slumped into stillness, her body going slack, sliding to the floor, Jenkins taking a step back, shocked. He stared at his hands, at what they'd done, destroying what would have destroyed. The silence drilled into his skull, almost anesthetizing him. Then Clara's eyelids fluttered open, dragging him back to life.

"Jenkins?" she mumbled, struggling to sit up.

Jenkins just stood there before throwing himself forwards, clasping her to him, her head lolling against his shoulder. "My precious, precious girl," he whispered, the tears rolling down his face, "I'm here, I've always been here."

"God, what happened?" Clara groaned, propping herself up against him.

"Funny turn," Jenkins half sobbed, half laughed.

"I feel like a funny turn," Clara said blearily, pushing the hair out of her eyes. "The comedy act of the evening." Jenkins just scoffed, before burying his face in the crook of her neck, breaking down completely. "It's alright," Clara said, her voice cracking, smoothing back his silvered hair, "I'm here, I've always been here."

 _ **The End**_

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone that read, reviewed, followed and favourited this story, particularly **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967**. The sequel, _Out Of The Darkness,_ can be found under the 'My Stories' section of my profile.


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